


Memory

by Madam_Fiction



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Anger, Blood, F/M, Flashback, Self-Harm, Unconscious, Wounded, cathry - Freeform, injured, reign - Freeform, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 14:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11876874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Fiction/pseuds/Madam_Fiction
Summary: Hey y’all! ONE-SHOT This is a twist on the original as usual. When Catherine slit her wrist, Mary believed her but refused to help her. Luckily someone else does. (:Rated T for violence, I need to chill with violence literally.





	Memory

**Hey y’all! ONE-SHOT This is a twist on the original as usual. When Catherine slit her wrist, Mary believed her but refused to help her. Luckily someone else does. (:**

**Rated T for violence, I need to chill with violence literally.**

She smashed the glass on her vanity and taking the sharpest piece she sliced her wrist open. The pain was immense and she hissed and shut her eyes for a moment before looking up at the Queen of Scots. “Do nothing and I’ll die.” The crimson liquid dripped down her fingertips and palm, splattering on the floor. She knew she had to save her son from the doom this girl would apparently bring and she would go to any lengths.

 

Mary looked shocked for a moment then spoke, “I believe you Catherine but what you’ve done and tried to do is unforgiveable.” With a last look at the Queen of France she turned on her heel and went to find Francis, leaving Catherine.

 

She looked after her in distress; at least Francis would be safe…yes Francis. A weary smile formed on her lips as the blood loss fogged her senses, she swayed a little and tried to steady herself but in vein. Her vision started to blur and she stumbled towards the door, maybe she could get to Nostradamus in time…she doubted it. She tripped over her own feet and her knees bowed as she fell to the floor, feet away from the door. Maybe it was better this way…everyone would be okay without her, without her. Maybe after knowing Mary had killed her Francis would really stay away from Mary, for good. That would be her parting gift, splitting apart a happy couple just as she and Henry split apart. No she didn’t want to think about Henry…not now when she was on the verge of death. Henry…she sighed and closed her eyes. Henry had wanted this, hadn’t he? Of course she had ruined his fun, he wanted to kill her himself but now HAHA she’d beat him to it! Her blood was a pool around her wrist and she felt nauseous and dizzy, death was coming, she could feel the dark cloud pushing at the edges of her mind. Then the door swung open and someone scooped her into his or her arms.

 

Henry had witnessed Mary rushing from Catherine’s chambers looking slightly bothered. He sighed, what was his wife up to this time? He would have to find out, stalking towards her chambers he thought of the possible things she could’ve done, poisoned someone, lashed out, threatened, the possibilities were endless. Her room came into sight, the gold and oak doors, large brass knob, pool of blood seeping through the crack beneath the door…wait a moment! He ran to the door and tried to open it, locked. He began to pound on the door, “CATHERINE!” He knew she must’ve killed someone and escaped, damn her. With that thought in mind he rammed his leg into the door and it flew open, then…the blood led to a beautiful woman. She was lying on the floor, face to the side, one hand stretched out in front of her that was drenched in blood. Her red dress was bunched up to her knees revealing the black lace-up shoes and freckled legs he knew so well…too well. A few of her fiery curls had managed to escape her bun and her face…beautiful lips, cheeks, nose, and eyes when they were open. He loved her, not just her looks but HER, god damn you Catherine. He went to her side and turned her around, lifted her into his arms, her head fell back and her still bleeding arm dripped on her dress. “Catherine, can you hear me?”

 

She tried to respond to whomever was speaking but all she could do was groan. She didn’t know what was going on but for the next few hours she swam in and out of consciousness.

 

Panic pounded in his chest, quickly he laid her on the bed and pressed a cloth to her bleeding wrist. He didn’t know what’d happened but from what it looked, she had slit her wrist and failed to get help. Why she’d done it he was mystified, he could see no other reason then a master scheme she could be planning. Well HAH he’d caught her red handed…literally. After the bleeding ceased he wrapped her arm in his already blood-spattered shirt. He noticed that her skin was hot and she looked unwell. He fetched a wet rag and placed it on her forehead, she whimpered and turned her head to the side. He sat down next to her and placed a hand on her cheek, it was like fire, she was defiantly ill. She shifted and pushed the blankets off the side of the bed with her feet. “Catherine.” He shook her but she only shivered away and wrapped her arms around herself.

 

“Catherine! Can you here me? What’s wrong?” He shook her frantically, trying to awaken her. She murmured something before turning towards him, eyes still closed and curls sticking to her sweaty forehead. He gently reached out and set the back of his hand on her forehead, she leaned into his touch as he brushed a few straw curls from her eyes. Taking his hand away he tried once more with the wet rag, this time she didn’t resist, “Catherine?”

 

“Henry…” She whispered. Her voice was raspy, as though her throat hurt when she spoke. Her small hand, which was wrapped in a piece of cloth from Henry’s shirt reached out towards him. Carefully he took her hand between his and she opened her eyes just a bit to peer up at him, “Henry?” She murmured once again.

 

“Yes, Catherine I’m here, what do you need?”

 

“Why…” She coughed, “Why am I here?”

 

His forehead creased with confusion, “What do you mean? You’re in your bed chambers.”

 

“Why?” She shifted a little, “Why are you here?”

 

“I’m helping you.”

 

“Ah, you couldn’t just let me die, you wanted the pleasure of doing that in front of all France.” She growled, well actually it was more of a cough and groan.

 

He sighed, “Catherine…”

 

“No, don’t you Catherine me, I don’t feel well can you fetch Nostradamus?” She interrupted.

 

“Catherine just hear me out, I want to help you, not because I want to kill you myself but because I CARE about you.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him, “Mhhmn I can see that, you must _really_ care about me to have me beheaded so you can marry another woman.”

 

“I was stupid yes, but I won’t hurt you I made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes Catherine!”

 

“Yes, like I made the mistake of marrying you.” She glared and turned away from him, “Get Nostradamus.”

 

His face fell at her words but she hadn’t seen, just like he hadn’t seen a single tear trickle down her face. Standing without a word he went to fetch the physician, good lord this would be awkward, for Henry had framed Nostradamus as well. Yet even when he offered the man his life for abandoning Catherine he stayed by her side. Stupid decision in Henry’s opinion, if he had been given the chance of life he would’ve taken it. That’s when it hit him; the seer was more of a husband to Catherine then himself. He kept her secrets, comforted her when she was despaired, and was a loyal friend. He stopped in his tracks, guilt flowing into his chest like a tidal wave, he had to make this right with Catherine. Turning on his heel he sprinted down the hall back to her room, when he arrived she was still in the same place she’d been when he’d left her.

 

Cautiously he approached her, “Catherine?” She didn’t answer so he took a step closer, “Catherine.” No answer, “Catherine!” He took hold her shoulder and pulled her around to face him.

 

The cloth from his shirt was strewn on the bed, revealing her bloody and freshly impaled wound. Her other hand, the uninjured one, lay atop the sliced one, nails filled with scabs and blood as if she’d ripped away the healing portion of her injury. Her face was even paler then before and her chest was barely moving at all.

 

A small smirk formed on her lips as she blinked hazily at him, “Thought you could trick me into believing you still loved me only to betray me tomorrow, not today Henry, not ever again.”

 

“Catherine, did you…?” He gestured to her open wound.

 

“Recut my wound? Yes.” She was still grinning but her vision was blurry.

 

“Dammit Catherine.” He growled and grabbed the cloth again, trying to retie her wound but she jerked her hand away.

 

“You’re too late.”

 

“No, I’m not.” He hissed and snatched her arm with an iron grip.

 

She felt so small in his grasp, falling limp in his grip her smile was no longer a smirk but rather a dreamy beam, she stared up at her husband sadly. Her breathes were shaky but she managed to speak, “Am I beautiful?”

 

He looked at her, surprised and concerned whilst still struggling with her wrist, “What?” He asked not sure if he’d heard her correctly.

 

“Do I look pretty?” She murmured. She figured she must at least be slightly appealing otherwise why was he still here?

 

“You are the most lovely woman I have ever laid eyes upon.” He said softly, wiping the blood from her wrist gently.

 

“Not as pretty as Diane.” She reasoned.

 

“You are so much more beautiful then Diane and I should have realized that, I think I always knew but…”

 

“You didn’t love me.” She finished, lifting her free hand to her forehead and she wore a pained expression.

 

“That’s not true, I always loved you…I still do but I messed up.” He said, wrapping her hand in a light cloth from the bedside table.

 

“I don’t feel loved Henry…make me feel loved…” She let a tear fall down her flushed face.

 

“I…I don’t know…you’re just tired…” He stuttered, he didn’t know how to make her feel loved, he didn’t know how to heal her heart, he didn’t know.

 

“I’m dying Henry, I want to feel loved…one last time.”

 

“No, no you’re not dying, don’t say that…don’t give up hope.” He took the hand from her forehead and folded it between his.

 

“Tell me how beautiful I am if that’s the truth…tell me…when we were young, tell me.” She shut her eyes.

 

“I…” He looked at the form of his wife, she was hot and sweaty, bloodstained and tearstained. Yet she was the light in all this darkness and he couldn’t let the cold wind of death extinguish out her beacon of light. He wouldn’t let her die but now…now all he could do was fulfill her request, “You are the most beautifully stunning person I have ever met, you are attractive in so many different ways. Your appearance for one, unique auburn hair, sharp nose, hazel eyes…I could stare into your eyes for hours on end and never become bored. Your lips…I’ve never seen any quite like them, so perfect and when you smile…it’s like the world has never seen sadness.” At this a small smile did spread across her face, weary yes but a smile all the same. He gently rubbed circles on the back of her hand before continuing.

 

“Though I always loved your freckles, on your nose,” he touched her nose and she let out a breathy giggle, “Your cheeks.” He gently touched her cheek and she kept smiling, a genuine smile, “On your hands…” He looked at both her hands, one wrapped in cloth and the other just lying there, limp in his. He traced the veins in her dainty hands, around her fingers and palm and she seemed to be falling asleep, a peaceful smile gracing her lips.

 

“It may seem strange but I liked that you were shorter then me, when we were younger and I would twirl you around in the air and then…” He was interrupted by her soft voice.

 

“Then you would kiss me…I always loved that…” She smiled.

 

“Then I kissed you.” He repeated, “You were the best of dancers, the way you just let the music take control and let loose. Everyone thought you were silly not to follow the steps but it was so much better when you had no directions. Twirling around and around the room and taking everyone’s breath away…I haven’t seen you dance in nearly twenty years…”

 

“I would dance with you now…” She told him, opening her eyes just slightly, “If I could.”

 

“You will get better.” He insisted.

 

“Enough of that…keep going.” She told him.

 

He didn’t argue for he hadn’t seen her smile in an eternity and he had missed it, “When you were younger…just after we’d married you would ride off into the woods for hours on end and the whole of French Court would think you dead. Then that night you would show up like you’d just fought off a pack of wolves and had a mud puddle throw up on you! My mother was horrified but my father said you would make a strong ruler one day and he was right. Then you come to our chambers and take the longest bath I’ve ever thought possible and fall straight asleep afterwards.”

 

“You would wait up for me.” She whispered, snuggling loser to him.

 

“I would, and you know another thing? You were so damn fidgety when you slept, tossing and turning and hogging the blankets. Sometimes you would even smack me in the face in your sleep.”

 

“How do you know I was asleep?” She asked coyly.

 

“You better have been asleep because you also kicked me off the bed!”

 

She grinned, “Serves you right.”

 

She laughed softly, “Except you weren’t _always_ restless, other times you would sleep soundly as a fox. Curling up in my arms, and sleeping like a child.”

 

“I miss that.” She sighed, reaching her tiny hand out to touch his knee, “Sleep with me?”

 

“Now?”

 

She nodded, “Hold me.”

 

He looked at her a long while before going over to the other side of the bed and lying down beside her. Without opening her eyes she scooted over towards him until she found his arms around her. Her bun of auburn hair was pressed into his face and he instinctively breathed in the scent of her hair, cranberries with a hint of vanilla. Sweet and spicy, he wrapped a protective arm around her careful not to startle her. Instead however she buried her face in his chest and whispered, “I love you Henry.”

 

“I love you too Caterina.”

 

With that they both fell asleep, Catherine snuggled into her husband’s arms in a way she had only dreamed possible. The next morning when Francis came running to his mother’s room to announce that he and Mary were indeed getting married he found both his parents cuddled together. Shocked at first he was about to wake them when his father opened his eyes and shook his head, gesturing for Francis to be quiet. Francis nodded and backed out of the room silently but the following days he noticed that both his mother and father looked happier then he ever remembered seeing them.

 

**A/N I know! I KNOW! It’s the cheesy fairy tale ending. I’ve had this piece going for some time now and I only just finished late last night. Please review and don’t be too harsh.**

 


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